Addiction
by Carie Valentine
Summary: Rinoa Heartilly, party girl extrodinaire, was living the fast life until it slowed to a crashing halt that landed her in rehab, and in the life of Squall Leonhart, repeat offender. ***In the process of being rewritten and reposted. 01/30/11***
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: To all of you who have read my previous works, sorry I will finish those still in progress fairly soon I promise. My brain usually shuts off for the summer shortly after getting out of school, alas not this year, it in fact threw so many new stories at me. This being one of them. Some reason I figured Rinoa would make a kick ass addict. I dunno if I am actually gonna continue this. I'm posting to see how it goes over, if no one likes it I will stop after chapter 2, since I already wrote that. If all goes well I will update and what not. So. Anyway, EVERYTHING in this is intentional so don't bitch about bad grammar or you will get a reply mail thing from me explaining about why things are the way they are.

Thanks always to my best bud Jesse Static for the betaing. You rock.

Chapter 1

She was sick and pale looking. The dark circles beneath her dead brown eyes accentuated her gaunt cheeks. Her frail hand traced lines along the bumpy plaster wall as she followed the woman in white down a long, well lit corridor. With each step she took the screams grew louder. The requests were different, but the ideas and vulgarity held the same sentiments.

"Someone please fucking kill me," screamed one voice.

"You sons of bitches I will fucking slit your throats," wailed another.

"I just want another fucking hit," moaned someone else.

The girl was too weak and too strung out to care. It was a weird feeling, she thought, that last hit before being forced into a clinic. It would be hours before her "normal" wore off. Hours before the pain would begin and she would be screaming like those poor suckers. She was strong, she wouldn't crack like them. She was Rinoa fucking Heartilly, party girl extraordinaire.

--

it was the party of the century anyone who was anyone was there the only light was strobing or flashing or spinning it was hard to see who anyone was it was hard to hear anything over the pulsating sounds of the techno music vaguely she could make out her friend at least she thought it was her friend she handed her something it was pink and in the shape of a heart like a lucky charm or a childens vitamin she asked what it was but couldnt hear the response the girl was older and rinoa wanted to impress her so took it down without a care

it didnt take long for the room to spin around and everything begin to feel good rinoa smiled and rubbed her body along the closest person to her she didnt care who it was as long as she could touch them the music changed into something funny and rinoa let out a childish laugh finally enjoying herself whatever that shit was she wanted more she never wanted this feeling to stop it made the pain stop and thats all she wanted

the wall felt rough against her back she laughed as the hands rubbed over her entire body the lips rolled over her leaving their trail of hot alcohol stained saliva all over her she could barely utter words at the feeling it was the greatest feeling in the world she thought finally she was happy again and fuck the person to come between them

--

Rinoa woke up screaming in pain. Trying to thrash her arms she realized she was restrained.

"Make it stop," she screamed looking at the woman in the corner watching her. The pain wracked her body from head to toe. God she needed it. She needed to feel the tingle flow through her system, to even her out. Amidst her screams she began to vomit. The woman in white stood immediately and turned Rinoa onto her side. Despite being covered in her own spit up, Rinoa began trashing again tossing the nurse to the floor.

"Get off me," she screamed, remnants of whatever her last meal was dripping down her face. "Don't fucking touch me. Let me out of these fucking things," she demanded pulling on the straps around her wrists. The woman stood up and went to the door asking for help.

A tall blond man, also in white entered the room and held Rinoa down.

"Get off me," Rinoa shrieked struggling against the hard body above her. The woman nurse took a wet sponge to the young addict, cleaning her off.

"Hold her arms, we need to get her a new gown," the woman instructed to the man. The man nodded and stood above her now, holding her down by the elbows. Rinoa continued to thrash and curse against the nurses.

Slowly, the blonde woman nurse unlocked the left restraint and quickly removed the sleeve of the gown. Then slipped on the beginnings of the new one and replacing the restraint. As the woman began to unhook the other side, Rinoa bit down hard into the man's arm, causing him to cry out in pain.

"You bitch," he cried. With his elbow the man swung hard, connecting with Rinoa's head, knocking her out.

--

she couldnt believe the general was dumb enough to leave her alone in the house while he was out on business well in her own defense he said nothing about not having a party did he really believe she was as well behaved as she seemed no one was that stupid that blind old fool didnt even lock the liquor cabinet she was only sixteen and could hold her liquor quite well

she couldnt believe half of the senior class had shown up to her party then again she was famous and anyone wanted to be seen with her

the room was filled with smoke but quiet except for a few quiet snorting sounds she stumbled in curiously half a dozen seniors sat around the coffee table covered in lines of white powder, empty bags and razors the head cheerleader handed her a rolled up paper gil comon rinoa join us rinoa sat next to the girl and watched her then copied her brain went numb she liked it much more than the ecstasy

the mattress caved under their weight he was much larger than her but was very skilled with his actions she didnt say no she couldnt and didnt want to the cold feel of metal against her wrists was making her hot she didnt know his name but that was unimportant just as long as he kept doing that thing with his hands he sucked on her breast like a starving infant god did the drugs make this feel so much better

--

Rinoa woke up in a new room. Her head still throbbed, and so did her left eye. The moon shone brightly through the barred window revealing the furnishings. She sat up and realized she was no longer restrained to the bed. Slowly, the girl got out of the bed and shuffled around the room and found the bathroom. She let out a slight hiss as the florissant light bore down on her. The reflection startled her. She was paler than before and now wore a large welt around her eye. Perhaps it was the black eye that made her look paler or her pale skin that made the bruise look that bad.

"Oh Miss Heartilly, you're awake," said someone from behind, causing Rinoa to jump out of her skin. The blonde nurse stood there with her suit case in hand.

"What happened?" Rinoa asked, touching her raw eye.

"Oh, you hit yourself when you were in detox. Knocked yourself out good. How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess," Rinoa replied, spying her suitcase. The woman smiled, noticing the shorter girl looking intently at the suitcase in her hand. The nurse walked to the bed and placed it down.

"Well here are your clothes. I know you probably wanna get out of that hospital gown."

Rinoa walked over and placed her hand on the pink case and ran her hand along the seam. Then her eyes lit up and began to itch her arm. The nurse noticed the look, now would be a good time to leave.

"Well, I-I'm off now," the nurse said backing toward the door. "I will see you in the morning Miss Heartilly."

As soon as the woman left, Rinoa tore open the case and peeled back the lining. Nothing. Rinoa's eyes opened wider. No, no they couldn't have. She began pulling everything out of the case in a frenzy. She stopped in realization, they took her fucking stash.

"You son of a bitch," Rinoa screeched throwing the case across the room, contents spilling everywhere. Rinoa ran to the door and turned the handle. Locked. Angrily, Rinoa began punching the door.

"I'll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch. That was my stash you fuckers. I swear to God I will kill you. Give them back," she screamed pounding on the door. She walked farther into the room picking up a chair and throwing it with all her might against the door.

Two men dressing white rushed into the room, tackling Rinoa to the floor. She fought back continuing to scream and curse. Finally they got her onto the bed and put the restraints back on her.

"You can't do this to me," she yelled. "Do you know who I am? My father is the fucking general of the fucking Galbadian army. I'll fucking have you all killed." One of the men chuckled.

"Shut up, you're disrupting the others, ya know?" The men left, leaving Rinoa alone in the dark, still struggling against the binds on her wrists.

The pain was more intense now. She could feel the bruises on her body form from where the orderlies attacked her. A wave of dizziness hit her again, pain flowing within her. It took what was ever left of her strength not to scream out as her body hungered for more drugs.

--

Days passed before Rinoa was allowed to leave her room and venture out for fresh air. She shuffled slowly around the corridors of the courtyard. She hissed loudly as the sun hit her body. Suddenly, a familiar smell wafted passed her. She momentarily revalued in the fragrance before moving to find the source. A smile crossed her lips and she spotted a man dressed in black seated on a bench. Thick white smoke rose from his hung head. Casually, she approached the figure and sat softly on the other side of the bench.

"Hey," she called to the man, who didn't reply or even move. "Can I bum one off you?" she asked louder than she spoke before. The man sat silently a moment before turning to look at her. She could see his stormy blue eyes widen behind the strands of brown hair hanging in his face.

Without a word, the man reached into his coat pocket and produced a cigarette packet and tossed it to her. Greedily she ripped open the packet and tore out a cigarette before shoving it in her mouth. She felt around herself looking for something, but did not find it. Before she could ask, she heard the sounds of a metal clank and then a soft click. She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth with her right fore and middle finger as she looked up to see the man holding a lighter for her. A smile of gratitude light up her face as she placed the cigarette back into her mouth and leaned in to light it.

"Thanks," Rinoa said after taking a long drag. The man merely shrugged in reply. "I'm Rinoa, by the way."

"I know who you are," he said stoically, not bothering to look up at her. From the corner of his eye he could see her look at him confused. "Your father is the fucking general of the fucking Galbadian army."  
Rinoa let out a low chuckle before taking another drag. "Yeah that's me."

"You also threatened to kill the nurses and that's cool by me," he said turning to face her. "I'm Squall."

"Nice to meet you, Squall," Rinoa said taking in Squall's appearance.

"Perhaps rehab isn't all bad," she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I think I will continue posting this since there are a couple of people interested and I am not gonna be a bastard and not post because I am not getting a million and a half hits, its those two or three people that are really interested that really matter right? So yeah. Again thanks to Jesse Static for the editing.

Chapter 2

The flash of cameras illuminated the salty night sky. People with tape recorders and microphones fought against each other, shouting their various questions at a brunette man. His head was hung, trying to avoid the flashes that stole his dignity. Ignoring the shouts of the reporters, he focused on the warm metal that was chaffing his wrists. Behind him, two men walked, pushing people aside while they marched him through the crowd.

"Squall, Squall? How does it feel to be back in rehab?" one reporter shouted trusting his microphone in his face.

"Did you know the drug dealer was an undercover cop?" another shouted.

"Will this truly be your last visit here?" questioned someone else. Something about this question made Squall stop. He stared at her with blood shot eyes. The reporter, obviously a rookie, looked stunned and began to quiver. Quickly, Squall sucked in a breath through his nose before unleashing a ball of spit onto the woman. Cameras snapped feverishly and turned to the reporter. The woman reeled back and squealed, wiping the spit from her cheek. One of the guards moved and landed an elbow to the back of the head ordering him to keep moving. Squall winced slightly but let out a low chuckle before moving on.

Finally, the media parade made it inside, safe from the constant flashing and questions.

"Well, well, if it isn't puberty boy. Back again I see," sneered a voice from behind the front desk. Squall raised his head slowly to face the blond male nurse, his upper lip instantly curled in disgust.

"Seifer," Squall growled. The police escorts behind Squall unlocked his cuffs and pushed him forward.

"He's all yours," he said as him and the other man left. Seifer smirked as he watched the two cops leave. As soon as they were out the door, Seifer opened his mouth to speak, but before he could there was loud commotion coming from a near by room. The blond and another nurse ran to see what was happening.

From where he stood Squall could hear a woman's voice screaming threats. Curiosity got the best of him and he followed the path taken by Seifer and the other man.

Inside the room he could make out a pale, black haired woman struggling against the two much bigger men.

"I'll fucking have you all killed," he heard her yell.

Squall chuckled at her words; he instantly liked her because of them.

"Okay, show's over, Puberty boy," Seifer said, push Squall away from the room. "Com'on, your room awaits."

--

Squall lay on his dormitory style bed and flicked on the television set. The room was just how he left it months before. He flicked the channels a few times until his face filled part of the screen.

"In other news Squall Leonhart, son of Estharian President Laguna Loire entered rehab again for the fourth time tonight. Leonhart, now twenty-one was arrested in May for trying to buy heroin off an undercover cop in Timber. However, he managed to escape on only a parole violation charges and sentenced to a year back in rehab. As always, Leonhart made a spectacle of the whole ordeal as he spat into the face of a young reporter before entering the Balamb Rehabilitation Center for Substance and Alcohol Abuse. No word yet as to what provoked the assault.

"Now we head over to Rick Sheridan with your local weather, Rick."

Squall shut off the television before he could get the weather. He wondered how much Laguna would shell out to that girl reporter to keep her from suing.

"Tch, weasel."

Without the television the room was dark, save for the soft glow of the moonlight. Squall leaned back against the headboard of his bed and stared at the ceiling, counting the cork holes.

squall im so proud of you ellone said with a huge smile on her face she hugged him around the middle how was it did they treat you well she asked helping him carry his luggage into the presidential palace the door pushed open revealing

hundreds of people their cheers as he entered shook the tiny apartment he looked to ellone who are these people mike he asked his best friend that rat bastard everybody he slurred the music was pulsating and deafening

the room was mellow a slight purple tint they all sat in bean bag chairs around a hookah comon it wont hurt you mike said handing him a tube the room was lit with illuminated goop floating in water the others sat in their chairs serenely fuck it he decided snatching the tube from the jack ass

His eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking in the new light. A dizzy feeling fell over him as he sat up too quickly. With the hem of his black shirt, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

--

It was the same band of idiots, Squall noted as he looked around the cafeteria. A few new faces but they were probably as dumb and pathetic as all the rest. Glancing quickly at the breakfast layout, he remembered that was another bad thing about this place. There was no sugar added to anything and it all tasted like paste or concrete. They were addicts, not convicts. Prisoners received better food then they did.

He quickly grabbed a bottle of water and walked over to the table way in the back and sat down and glared out over the area. As he twisted open the bottle, his vision was suddenly blocked with a blur of yellow. He could feel the headache begin as the girl sat down before him.

"Hiya, Squall," she said almost bouncing back out of her seat.

"Hello, Selphie," he replied monotony. She was a recovering upper addict. The thought of her on a handful of uppers made him wince. She was so fucking bubbly in person it was surprising no one managed to get her addicted to downers. God knows he would have.

"We heard you were coming back. You missed us that much, huh?" she asked, a giant goofy smile plastered on her face.

"Yeah, something like that," Squall replied, taking a swig of his water, wishing it was another clear liquid. He needed something, anything to take the clichéd edge off the day.

"Irvy," Selphie called loudly to a man dressed as a cowboy entering the room. With a grin "Irvy" waved and began walking over.

"Well I'll be, Squall Leonhart, back again I see," he said extending his hand.

"Irvine," Squall greeted with a hint of happiness, standing to shake the cowboy's hand.

"So what brings you here this time?" Irvine asked, both men sitting down.

Squall opened his mouth to respond, but Selphie beat him to the punch. "OhmiGod you haven't seen the news?" she asked shocked. "He tried to score some heroin offa cop, didn't you, Squall?" she asked looking to Squall, who hung his head.

Irvine eyes went wide with laughter. "Shit boy. You were only out for what, three weeks? That's gotta be some record," Irvine chuckled. Then added with a click of his tongue, "Shoot."

The blonde woman in white spotted him almost immediately as she entered the cafeteria. She heard he was coming back. She knew it was bad but was glad he was; she missed him. It was forbidden to carry on with a patient, but it wasn't against the rules to harbor a crush on one.

"Hello, Squall," she said standing before him, cutting over his friends. He looked up; she noted the scowl on his face deepened when their eyes met. She learned not to take it personally; he held the same distain for all the doctors and nurses here.

"Quistis," he replied.

"Hiya, Quisty," Selphie said in her overly hyper manor.

"Good morning, everyone," Quistis said waving to the whole table. "Cid would like to see you," she informed Squall, who rolled his eyes.

"Now?" he groaned. She nodded. Squall quickly flicked his chair back and stood walking to the door, Quistis at his heels.

"I know where it is, you don't have to follow me. I'm not a fucking child," he growled not stopping to look at her. He was getting sick of the desperate way she followed him around like a puppy.

"Oh. Okay then," she said sadly stopping at the nurses' station where Seifer stood. Quistis stood telling herself not to cry as she watched him walk down the hall.

"I wouldn't waste your time on a guy like that," Seifer said behind her. Quickly she wiped a fallen tear and looked to the other guy.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Well," Seifer said leaning on the desk getting closer to Quistis. "For one I think he's gay. He'd have to be not to be in love with you," said Seifer, looking to her hopefully.

"Your pathetic, you know that," she scoffed walking away.

--

Squall stood before a large wooden door, hesitant to knock on the door. He didn't really want to hear what the old man had to say. It was the same old shit. How he was disappointed to see him again. How he was really hoping the last time was just that. How he would really hope he would try to get clean. Blah, blah, blah.

He knocked upon the door and awaited permission to enter. When it was granted, Squall pushed open the heavy doors and stepped in.

"Ah, Squall, just the man I wanted to see," Cid said cheerily, standing from behind his desk. "Have a seat," he offered.

"Thanks." Squall nodded and sat at the chair directly across from Cid. He looked across the wide oak desk as the old man adjusted his glasses. This was it, the long, boring speech.

"I've had it with you, Squall," the old man said with a sigh. Wait a minute… This isn't how the speech usually began.

"Sir?" His head cocked to the side.

"I'm serious. You don't comply with anything. You don't accept our help, you treat this place like a hotel, and when you finally get out you screw up again and end up back here again."

"I just can't seem to stay clean, sir. I'm weak," Squall said, feigning innocent.

"Cut the bullshit, boy. You use this as a prison alternative. You don't want to be clean, and I am sick of wasting my time and money on you," the old man said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Will all due respects sir, most of the money comes from my father," Squall replied, getting angry.

"That maybe so, but that doesn't make you head honcho here, and if I say I don't want you back here again if you fuck up after this, then I don't have to," Cid shot back, his own anger rising.

"You can't do that," Squall shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

"Watch me."

--

"That son of a bitch. Who does he think he is? My father is president of Esthar. I am Squall Leonhart. He has no right to speak to me like that," Squall's mind grumbled and he stormed down the hallways.

As he turned the corner he ran into something hard, causing him to fall over. Squall quickly leapt to his feet ready to kill whatever ran into him.

"Heeeeeeeey, Squall. What's up?" an excited blond man asked.

"Hi, Zell," Squall grumbled wiping at his pant legs.

"Dude I never thought I would see you here again," exclaimed Zell.

"Yeah, well, shit happens."

"Ain't that the truth," Zell agreed and began running in place. "So what are you doing here?" Squall's eyes rolled at the obvious question.

"Recovering from a drug habit," he relied in a robotic tone.

It was Zell's turn to roll his eyes, "Duh," he replied. "What are you doing here?" He motioned to the hallway. Squall turned the slightest tint of red from embarrassment.

"Looking for someone," he replied.

"Who?" Zell questioned intrigued that the all mighty lone wolf was actually seeking someone.

"A girl."

"Really? A girl?" the blond asked with complete surprise. Squall shot a glare his way.

--

Squall sat down outside in the quad surveying the scenery. He enjoyed the quiet the outside provided; he could smoke outside, too. He tore off the packaging around the pack and began smacking it with the heel of his hand. Breaking opened the pack, he placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it before placing the pack into his coat.  
It had been almost a week since he had seen that girl, he noted, taking a drag. He started to wonder if she had been a crazy withdrawal hallucination. But then why would Seifer and the other guy have fought with a ha-

It was as if on cue she entered on the other side of the courtyard, wincing at the light. She stopped suddenly and smelled the air.

"Is she high?" he wondered to himself. He watched carefully as she approached him. She was good looking in real light, he noted, but was in terrible shape. The sun was like a spotlight accentuating her frail frame. Cocaine, he suspected, from the way she looked like she hadn't eaten anything in years. Drugs really did fuck people up, he thought.

"Hey," she said to him taking a seat at the other end. "Can I bum one off you?"

"How 'bout a cookie?" his mind offered. Deciding it was safer not to say anything; he pulled back out his pack and tossed it to her. He had to refrain from chuckling at the way she tore into the pack like a starving dog at a piece of meat. He opened his lighter for her, to which she looked overly grateful.

"Thanks," she said after taking a long drag. He shrugged in reply never one for gratitude. "I'm Rinoa, by the way," she said. He knew that name.

"I know who you are," he replied, not bothering to look up at her. From the corner of his eye he could see her look at him confused. "Your father is the fucking general of the fucking Galbadian army."

"She's Caraway's bratty socialite daughter. She used to be hot. Damn you drugs," his mind thought.

"Yeah," she giggled. "That's me."

"I'm Squall," he replied, hoping she wouldn't recognize him, but from the way she was looking at him, she did but couldn't place it.

"Do you mind?" he asked turning to her.

"Sorry," she said looking away from him. He noticed the shiner over her left eye; no doubt from Seifer.

"I take it you met Seifer," he said looking at her.

"Who?" she asked, flicking some ash from her cigarette.

"Seifer. He's a nurse here. He tends to get a bit rough," he said motioning to her black eye.

"Oh. They told me I hit myself. Is that scar on your face from this Seifer?" she asked.

"This?" he asked touching his forehead. She nodded. "No, this is what happens when you do pay your dealer exact change."

"Oh, well jokes on him. It makes you look even hotter," she said. He noted the look on her face, looking as if she couldn't believe she said that. He chuckled.

"Thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Okay since this seemed to go over fairly well I decided to go on. Sorry for the long await but as I say, "You can't rush quality." Well that and I got to the end of chapter 2 and was like, "Um what now?" Someone asked if there was going to be a lemon and I was like, "What the hell never written one of those before." So there you go. I don't take requests but I liked the idea and my story just happened to head that way. If you haven't figured out I have never written a lemon before so this is my first and it was slightly awkward, to say the least and I turned at least four different reds while writing it. Also, besides this I am not going to put out any sort of disclaimer for anything. I think the rating, 'M' says it all. If any of this makes you upset or what not, you probably should stick to the 'T' ratings. That's said. On with the show. Thanks to all you who reviewed and more are always welcomed and appreciated since I am a feedback whore.

P.S. I gave my beta the chapter(s) off so if I missed anything I do apologize. And most of the dream part at the end is of her creation. I added to it some but 80 of it is her's.

Chapter 3

She sat at a front table, an untouched cup of coffee letting off its steam before her, eyes fixated on them. The beautiful young man and the cheap floozy he allowed in his presence. She knew who the girl was. Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway, professional socialite, hated by all who adored her. The type that had everything at their fingertips and wasted all that they touched. She was rich and famous by lineage and association only, she herself provided no real contribution to society, other than to spend other people's money.

Her father the famous G. Caraway, general to the world's greatest military force. And President Deling's lap dog during his conquest to take over half the globe. Because of this, the Caraway's were privileged in sharing in Deling's spoils; this included several private islands around the world. The imperialist ass, who needed a private island, let alone several?

Let's not forget her dear, sweet mother. The late, great one-hit-wonder Julia Heartilly-Caraway, with her song, "Eyes on Me," played at every fucking prom the world over. In the world's eyes it was a classic, never to go out of style. But to Quistis Trepe, it was an over-played, over-estimated, over-sentimental and over-romantic pile of crap. She thanked God everyday that woman died before she had a chance to unleash more filth and music.

Her stomach turned as their eyes met. She watched her whisper to Squall and motion to her.

"Don't you dare talk about me, whore," Quistis's mind spat. Squall turned and curled his upper lip in disgust, to which Quistis scowled. "Jackass."

She could feel his eyes on her. Always watching her. You'd think a guy would take a hint. Although teasing him did make her day.

--

He watched her from the nurse's station. She was, no doubt, watching Puberty Boy with that new chick. She was probably jealous. God, she was hottest when she was mad.

His pants felt tighter as he pictured that angry face, lips pursed together in a scowl, eyebrows forming "v," as he pounded her form into his mattress.

He bets she likes it hard and fast. She was probably kinky as hell too, like being strapped down to the posts. She may look pure and innocent, but he knew she was a freak behind closed doors. The typed you could tie up and ride for hours, oh God.

"Shit," he said aloud looking down at the wet spot on his white pants.

"Yo Seifer, what's up man?" said a tall, bulky, black man.

"Hey Rai. Could you, uh, cover for me, I have to, um go to my room real quick," Seifer stammered.

"Yeah, sure thing man," the other man replied. Seifer quickly picked up a clipboard and placed it over his wet spot and ran for the elevators.

"Where is he going?" Quistis asked behind the other man, styrofoam cup in her hand.

"He was going to his room real quick, ya know?" he replied. A strange glint appeared in the blonde's eyes.

"Thanks, Raijin," she said, running her slender fingers along his large arms as she made her way to the elevators.

--

"Shit," he cursed again standing as his draws in search of a clean pair of pants. Clothes were scattered across the floor, clean and dirty alike. He swore he had another clean pair of- A loud, forceful knock at his door, causing him to stop his frantic search.

"Hold on," he called, speeding up his pants hunt. The door was suddenly pushed open and just as quick shut again. "What the- Quistis?" he asked in shock, clothes in his hands. The blonde woman's eyes raked over his partially exposed body. "Get the fuck out," he ordered, pointing at the door.  
She stood there defiantly, who the hell was he to order her around, sure it was his room but, where did he get off?

"Not if you are going to take that tone," she replied boldly, arms folded across her chest. A smirk graced his face. He walked over to her trying to stare her down.

"Get the fuck out of my room," he said calmly, his face inches from her's.

"Make me," she challeged with same tone of voice. Seifer shrugged with his eyes before shoving Quistis into the door behind her and assulting her with his mouth. She let out a cry of disgust and pushed him away. Seifer grabbed her arms and held them over her head with his left hand, while his lips moved to her neck.

"Get off of me, Seifer," she demanded trying to wrench free from his grasp.

"No, you wouldn't leave," he said, snaking his free hand under her shirt. He almost let out a cry of delight as his hand met with a front clasp bra. With little effort, he managed to snap open the bra and greedily grab at her tit.

"Ow, fucking stop," she cried, kicking him in his hardening crotch, instantly freeing herself from his grips.

"You bitch," he squealed holding his injured area.

Before Quistis could open the door, Seifer recovered and turn the girl around. Her left cheek was met with his clenched fist, throwing her to the floor. A metallic taste instantly filled her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Her hand went to cover her bruised face.

"So you do like it rough, whore." Seifer picked up Quistis and tossed her carelessly to his bed.

"Don't you fucking touch me," she screamed trying to scramble from the bed. But, Seifer quickly jumped onto her, straddling her waste, holding her arms above her head again.

"Stop whining you know you like it," he said, ripping open her shirt with ease. He buried his head in her chest taking one of her nipples in-between his teeth.

"Oh God, Seifer," she moaned. She stopped herself immediately, "Get off me," she yelled. He rubbed the bulging part of his boxers into her hips, causing her to let out another moan.

"Oh my God I shouldn't be enjoying this," she whispered to herself. Seifer smiled into her chest. Slowly, Seifer ran his free hand down her exposed torso and undid her belt. He then took her right arm and slapped it to the bed post and expertly bound it with the belt, all the while getting punched with her left hand. He held her other hand, while he searched for something else to tie her other hand.

Quickly, he gathered his earlier discarded, stained pants, belt still in the loops. He repeated his earlier process with his belt and her left hand.

"Now we can have some real fun," he said kissing her roughly. She continued to squeal and struggle against his binds.

Seifer slid down the bed stopping to face her waist. He made quick work of her white pants, revealing her pink, lace panties. He cupped his hand over her sensitive area, extracting pleasure filled moans from her. He smirked and dipped his hand beneath the tiny piece of cloth and into the slick recess of her body. He bit back a tear of joy to find it expertly shaven.

"Oh, oh fuck, don't stop," she moaned. Seifer's smile grew as he pulled the pink lace down to her ankles. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, tasting her for all she was worth. She emitted a series of moans and whimpers with a dash of curses. Quistis quickly reached her final peak in a loud, guttural scream.

"Enjoy yourself, my dear?" he asked arrogantly. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Seifer, if you don't fuck me now, I will fucking kill you," she threatened, teeth clenched looking down at him. Seifer smiled again, his dreams were finally coming true.  
He leaned over her and reached into his bed side table, pulling out a small packet.

"I'm on the pill," she said, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice.

"I don't know where the fuck you've been," he replied, ripping open the condom with his teeth. Quistis struggled against her binds trying to hit him.

"You are such a fucking asshole," she screamed. Seifer let out a little laugh.

"No, no, my dear, we will get to that later," he told her slipping off his boxers. Quistis eyed his surprisingly large penis, as he rolled the rubber over it.

Seifer slammed himself into her quickly, not caring whether or not she was ready for him. She let loose another series of cries and curse words. But those too soon subsided into strings of moans and encouraging insults.

He gripped onto her chest for support as he rammed in and out of her hard.

"Oh yeah, fuck me, fuck me harder," she screamed, holding on to the belts her head thrown back.

"Holy fuck," he cried as he rode her.

"Seifer," she cried loudly as she climaxed again, Seifer following her soon after. He fell onto the bed beside her, both breathing heavy.

"Holy shit you are a good lay," he said, rolling over to remove the used condom.

"We should definitely do that more often," she purred.

--

the kick landed in his chest hard and he staggered backwards as a knee landed in his stomach and oh there went everything he had been poised for success and there went everything his body went limp and he tumbled out of the ring and a few weeks later he still couldn't feel his leg

he'll never fight again they said the damage in his leg is too bad there's he'll walk soon but fight no he'll never fight again he lost it broke down and started sobbing in his mothers arms its okay its okay its okay she cooed everything will be fine everything will be okay

he could walk but there was pain always pain he could walk but not fight the drugs were a miracle they took away his pain but he missed the ring the fighting the glory the pain the more he took the better he felt he could take on anyone

his shaking hand lifted the group of pills to his mouth who needed water they went down easy

he flashed the wad of money around the bars the convenient stores anywhere so long as it was late and on the wrong side of town he knew someone would see someone would follow him out the sounds of heavy shoes on the pavement behind him caused excitement the more the merrier the hand on his shoulder causing him to stop the sharp edge of a blade pressed to his back the dizzy numb feeling coursing through his veins mixing with adrenaline

he quickly whipped around elbow crashing into the jaw teeth crunching blood splattering his hurt leg devoid of pain smashed into the stomach of the attacker or an accomplice or an innocent bystander who fucking cares as long as they suffered

he awoke in his own sweat shaking it was still dark he reached for the almost vacant bottle and emptied it into his hand down they went fuck the spoon full of sugar they knew nothing it went down all on its own easing the pain he felt good

--

Zell awoke to the sounds of screams from the floor above. Sweat dripped down his face; he hated those dreams, those memories. The thoughts of what he became made him sick. The screams were followed up by the banging of something against the floor.

"Oh God," he thought in realization. "I thought sex was illegal in this place."

He rose from his bed; there was no way he was going to get back to sleep with that going on above him. He walked to his drawers trying to block out the moans and thuds. He wondering if he should tell Cid or a nurse about what was going on and have them fix it. But he knew that would be a bad idea, Seifer would make a big deal over it and call him a "goody, goody", "tattle tale," or "chicken-wuss," or some other cutesy name to call him for doing the right thing.

"That bastard," Zell thought pulling on a clean shirt. He looked to the ceiling as another scream erupted from above. One thing was sure; he needed to get out of there before he had a little problem of his own.

Zell ripped open his door and stalked down to the cafeteria, not bothering to change from his pajama pants. What did he care, most of the people around here were too zoned to notice that type of thing anyway. Besides who was he trying to impress?


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: So I guess no one really liked Chapter 3 huh? Was it the sex or the fact I gave my Beta the chapter off? Oh well you win some you lose some, I suppose. Hopefully this chapter is better for you. My Beta, Jesse Static, who is back from "sabbatical," says it's the best drug scene ever and I nailed Squall's character like it was my job. Hopefully more people will read this chapter. Not that I am threatening to stop writing if I don't get six-million reviews. I hate people like that. Anyways, drop a line if you like it or if you have some criticism. (Note: if you don't know how to write that last bit I wrote a section on that in Jesse Static's and my forum- Fandom Forgot ItsMeds. Her title not mine).

Chapter4

Being in rehab wasn't so bad once you got out of detox. The only bad thing to deal with was the mental cravings. Well, that and the stupid required group therapy sessions. They were only whine fests.

"My mommy married anyone who walked by so I smoke pot."

"My girlfriend broke up with me so I do lines of coke."

"People called me fat so I shoot up heroin."

This was the part of the stint Squall hated most. The glorified AA meetings, as he called them. No, they were more like self-pity groups aimed to make you weak enough to send you to AA meetings as soon as you got out of here. It was a waste of two hours. He was sick of listening to them bitch about how reality sucked and they needed a little something to get them through the day. Pussies. They were those people who have been raised on principles of fairy tales and the lie that good always triumphed over evil. Then they "grew up" and broke down when they never got their "happily ever after." The Woodsman was too late and Red Riding Hood was digested. Tch, those fuckers knew nothing of reality.

Squall sat in the chair, closest to the door. As soon as the clock struck six he was out. He watched the people nervously shuffle in one by one. Some gave him dirty looks for getting the premium spot; he wasn't the only one who hated this part. She walked in, completely oblivious to him. He let out a high pitched whistle, startling her. Rinoa turned and smiled realizing who it was.

"Hey," she said cheerily, taking a seat next to him. Squall merely nodded his acknowledgment. The last few people shuffled in, along with an older woman in a white lab coat.

"Welcome everyone. I see we have a great deal of new comers," she said looking around the circle of chairs. Her face stopped at Squall's and the smile fell. "And some returning." He inwardly chuckled at her response to him. Sure he wasn't the most productive person in group, but damnit he gave those people a real perspective. Telling them to shut the fuck up and quit bitching was sound advice. Babying them wasn't going to get them anywhere. They had been so out of it for so long, they needed a good reality check.

"Well, since we have so many new faces, I think it would be best if we got to know some of our new friends." She looked around the room. "Okay. Do we have any volunteers who want to tell us who they are and their story?" The room remained silent. Squall again bit back a chuckle as the doctor's expectant face fell.

"I want to let you know now that this is a safe environment. What's said in group stays in group, but there is no pressure to speak." A timid young man raised a shaky hand. He couldn't have been more than eighteen and weighed at most one-hundred pounds. He was as pale as Rinoa was, but even made her look fat.

"Alright. Stand up, tells us your name and why you turned to drugs," the doctor said, stepping out of the middle of the circle and taking seat in an empty chair at the top of the circle.

"I-um, m-my name is N-Nida," the boy stammered, looking over to the doctor who nodded in support.

"What's your addiction, Nida?" she asked kindly. Nida shook like a cold Chihuahua.

"Heroin," he said softly, holding out his arms. The room gasped the bruises on his inner arm and the mangled, discolored veins.

--

"Why don't you speak up?" Rinoa asked. Her face contorted with disgust as she pushed the browning piece of broccoli around the tray with a plastic fork. Squall shrugged and shoveled more food into his mouth. The taste was revolting, but he had to keep up appearances so Rinoa would eat as well.

"Eat," he demanded with a full mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, it's impolite. Didn't your mother teach you anything?" Rinoa asked wagging a piece of greenish vegetable at him. Squall swallowed hard, his eyes went distant. His mouth opened to say something but stopped.

"Shut up," he spat finally.

"What?"

"I said, 'shut up,'" he repeated.

"No, no I heard that. But you were going to say something before," she said, dropping the fork into a pile of food. He knew she was stalling.

"Forget it," he replied, tapping her tray.

"Com'on, Squall. You have to let people know what's on your mind."

"Why? What's it going to prove?" he challenged. Damnit, he was playing into her stall tactics.

"You can't bottle everything up. You'll go crazy. Don't you ever just want to get things off your chest? You'd be amazed at how liberating it feels," she said spreading her arms out and leaning back in her chair. Squall watched the girl before him and thought a moment. Banishing the smirk from his face when Rinoa sat back upright, he looked at her seriously.

"Okay." She smiled broadly at her victory. "You need to eat. You look like a fucking skeleton." The smile fell from her face. "You're right, that is liberating."

She crossed her arms across her chest and huffed, "That's not what I meant."

Squall let out a little chuckle. "What did you mean then?"

"I mean in group, Squall. Tell everyone why you are here. Opening up isn't a bad thing."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it's-

"Drop it," he yelled over her. "Nothing good can come from my telling anyone my problems."

"How do you know unless you tr?" she countered.

"I did, and it almost killed me. Now eat your goddamn food," he said forcefully picking up his fork and shoveling in more slop.

"I don't believe you," she said under her breath, picking up her fork again.

--

the smoke filled his lungs making his throat tingle he choked it back out the giant room erupted with laughter

he was three inches tall but it was funny how being this short made one so hungry the funion was huge he noted looping around his neck his mouth was cotton get me a beer he demanded

he stumbled in through the front door not bothering to be quiet about it the funion now in a liquid mass on the floor his head being smashed by his fathers fists thats okay he couldnt feel it jaw forehead nose jaw cheek eye floor tasting funion and beer and bile and blood too drunk to get up too high to care

he was dizzy always dizzy fifty pound head the blood shot eyes the dark circles the peach fuzz on his chin the large lumps the deep cuts mommy he cried

Sweat. There was always sweat with dreams like that. Dreams, memories, he wasn't sure anymore. What did it matter? They were bad either way. No drug took them away, he knew that much. If drugs didn't stop them why did that stupid bitch doctor think talking about them would? How was telling your problems to a bunch of strangers that didn't give a rat's ass about you supposed to help end nightmares? How did unloading your burdens on someone else help? Doesn't it just add to theirs? Everyone has their own problems, their own personal demons, so how is unloading your own on them going to help anyone? In the end don't you just end up carrying each other's burdens when the idea was to rid yourself of them?

"Who gave them the right to carry my problems, anyway? They are mine to carry. And I sure as hell don't wanna listen to their bullshit," he thought pounding his fist into the sheets. "Fuck them. They don't know me. So who are they to judge my problems? I don't need their fucking pity. Fuck them all."

--

"Squall, it's your turn," the doctor said. Eyes focused on him, sympathetic, angry, indifferent, pleading. He didn't look up from the spot on the floor but he cool feel each set. Eyes quickly flicked to the clock. Fuck, fifteen minutes, there was no way he could stall that long.

"Squall," the doctor interjected. "If you don't speak, we won't leave." Eye brows fell, lips pursed, holes burned into the back of his skull. His eyes quickly shot to Rinoa and her thin, sharp, pale cheeks. Malnutrition. This was unethical and most likely illegal. You couldn't force a patient to speak. I have a right to remain silent, damnit.

"Fuck you," he tried to say but his mouth wasn't getting the signal. All other eyes angry, they knew he wouldn't talk. Her's were caring. Still caring and warm, damn her. She didn't care if she ate anytime soon. She learned how to function like that years ago.

His father's face flashed in his mind.

"Fuck you," he always said, his usual warm face turned sour on him. "Because of you she's dead you fucking murderer. It should have been you, not her. Fuck you."

"Well, Squall?" the doctor asked expectantly.

The clock ticked, eyes grew more murderous. His still focused on the carpet.

"He hated me," he finally said quietly. "He hated me because she died." Tears stained his face. Fuck them all. "Drugs were my only escape. My only friend. They made the pain stop. The pain he caused. That's why. Because it should have been me. I should be dead."

When his head raised from the spot on the floor, he could see tears. Their eyes; pity. The doctor moved to place a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.

"It's okay-"

Squall snapped up, knocking over his chair. He slapped the doctor's hand away with his own before letting out a roar of anger and storming from the room. The doctor reeled her hand back to her chest holding it in fear. Rinoa looked around the room at the astonished faces and ran after Squall.

She saw his form stalking down the hallway. She tried to call after him but he ignored her calls. She began to run toward him but stopped. Would he want to talk to her? No, that was a given. She was afraid of what he might do to her if she followed. She didn't know what he was capable of , and that roar was terrifying. Rinoa let out a nervous sigh before slowly making her way to the lion's den.

The room was dark. His shades where down blocking out most of the remaining daylight. He was hurting and she didn't know how to help. There he lay, broken on his bed. Speaking his demons only made him worse. Just like he said they would. He said it would only cause him more pain, more pain for everyone and he was right. He was right and she was the one to push him. She was at fault for pushing him. Shit, why did her good intentions always come back to bite her in the ass? How could she help him now? Her previous attempts landed her here. It was going to get worse if she helped again. It always did, she was a curse.

There was no way she could help. Her only solutions go you kicked out. He already had so many strikes against him, one more and he was out for good. He needed to be here, more than anyone.

She dropped to the floor in the corner of the dark room, knees in her chest. Life was a bitch without drugs in your system, she noted bitterly. All she could do was cry. It was all too much. She needed a hit of something, anything to clear her mind, to take her as far away from that room as possible. Her body suddenly ached with craving. Violently shaking, she couldn't deal with these feelings. Rinoa fell to the flood in fetal position, biting back the tears, the screams of, "Dear God why me?" She clutched the ring that hung from her neck, "Mommy," her mind cried.

Rinoa sensed him; she looked up to see his form looming above her. The only feature she could make out was his eyes. Soulless, lifeless, brilliant blue piercing into her, like something from a cartoon.

Effortlessly, he pulled her to her feet and slammed her body into the wall. She cowered beneath him. His hand rose threateningly, the tears now flowing freely from her eyes. She let out a squeal as the hand lowered.

He pushed her toward the door, the raised hand pointed.

"Go," he ordered. Rinoa stood frozen in fear.

* * *

Author's Note: I know, I know, I know. I'm sorry, but there will be some kick ass Squall/Rinoa scenes next chapter. I promise. Just go with me on this. I know what I am doing! Until next time... 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Well once again, thanks to you all that took the time to read and write a review. I am glad there are people out there who like the dark nature of the fic. When I was first writing this I was slightly afraid it wouldn't go over to well since it was dark and most people here are looking for up-beat and happy. Well, I don't buy the happy ending crap. Not so much anyway, I still have my moments. But I would also like to thank Jesse Static and Ironic Ending. Jesse for the kick ass beta-ing and Ironic for the free advertisement in his work and for suffering through even though there are not bunny rabbits and clouds. Tee hee. Note this is probably my favorite chapter because of the third section down. It's my favorite thing I have ever written. Well, I could ramble on, or let you get to the fic. So. Please leave me some love people, it feeds my ego and self-esteem so… Enjoy!

Also, everything is still intentional!

Chapter 5

She had anticipated this. Once he'd had his way with her, he'd leave her alone. But why did she care so much now? Isn't this what she wanted? Shouldn't she be happy? Wasn't this what she'd been hoping for since his little obsession with her began?

She felt cheap and used, and worse than that was the fact that she didn't care. In fact, she loved the feeling. She tried in vain to reach that same pleasure he provided her with whatever she could find. She needed him and that was the worst of it.

"I need you to fuck me," her mind would often scream every time she saw him. She wanted to tell him, oh God did she need to, but he was always in public; always conveniently around someone else. She didn't care if she looked weak before him. Hell, he knew what he did to her. That was evident since "the encounter." She would gladly go to him on her knees and beg for it, but she couldn't break down in front of everyone and beg Seifer to fuck her again. She needed to maintain some self-respect.

--

Rinoa missed having him around. She missed the meal time lies of how good the food was despite their discoloration and the way his face contorted as he tried to prove his lie. Hell, she almost believed him. His words were convincing enough and his eyes were the deal breaker.

She missed talking to people. Everyone seemed to be as afraid of her as they were of him. It was probably his comments he made to everyone who bared their souls. Why did they still bother if they knew he would mock them? These people were so broken, so how did they manage to keep talking knowing Squall was there waiting with a comment? It was probably because they knew he was just as broken.

But he left her alone. He sat there patiently and attentively listening to every word she spoke. Why? And did that send a message to everyone else to leave her alone? How juvenile. Even the blonde nurse that glared at her daily left her alone now.

Rinoa sighed and continued to flip through the magazine of things the media deemed important. She mostly looked at the pictures and not the words. Only fifty percent of them were true anyway. Occasionally, she would come across a photo of her and her friends at red carpet events she vaguely remembered going to. The famous men she had been reportedly linked to. Only half of them were true. The other's wished. God, she was bored. The room was relatively empty except for a few people watching TV. She sat in the back corner by herself, not bugging and not being bugged.

She hadn't seen him since "group." Where the hell was he? One just doesn't simply disappear into nowhere, she thought as a large shadow cast over her form. She knew who it was from the sudden chill running down her spine. Rinoa closed the magazine and met his icicle eyes.

"Let's go," he ordered.

Her hands shook; there was something in his voice that said she should be scared. But, something else told her to be more afraid if she disobeyed. Carefully, she set the paper entertainment down and stood.

"Where are we-" she started.

"Shut up and just follow me," he snapped. The duo moved stealthy down the darkened corridor.

The escape was easy – stairs, crawling, cafeteria, kitchen door. The outside was the problem. The cameras and motion detectors were not as easy to bypass. All they needed were guard dogs and a moat.

He had been there enough times, he knew the blind spots and when it was safe to move. Up the side, a step to the left, a roll for effect and up the and over the blackened wall. Freedom.

The night sea breeze felt nice as they strolled into the nearest town of Balamb. She was surprised there wasn't a guard checking for rehab escapees, considering the relative closeness. Unlike most college towns, Balamb almost seemed as though it was independent and wanted nothing of the building not even a mile away.

"Where are we going?" she asked timidly as they entered town.

"I want to get drunk," he replied.

--

She watched him. Always watching him. He knew this. He felt this. He smirked a little every time he felt her cold blue eyes on him.

He made damn sure he was never alone in public. She would never come and interrupt him while he was with someone else. She was too proud. She didn't want to run the risk of appearing weak. God forbid. But he knew she was. Otherwise, she wouldn't stalk him with her eyes.

He was never alone when he ran the risk of running into her. It wasn't that he was afraid of her doing him bodily harm. There was no way she could. They had established who was dominant on day one. He may have been the first pseudo stalker but even then he was in control. The stalker is always the dominant one. Scratch that the hunter was the one in the position of power.

Even now despite the slight role reversal, he was still in control. He knew what he was doing to her; building the gingerbread house and dropping the bread crumbs. Don't worry Gretel, you will be safe here.

He tempted her but did not allow her a taste, not even a smell. Well not since, ya know. Only a long distance glimpse. Tempting, teasing, angering, make her want until she snapped.

He knew where the snapping led to; Angry stalker sex. The best kind in his book. Hell, it wasn't really sex. It was the text book definition of "fucking." It was the explosion after the long, painful anticipation countdown. It was angry, desperate, rough and quasi-legal. Then tension builds to a point where you don't give a flying fuck if you hurt the other person in your quest to gratification. It was sinister and evil, but Goddamn it was hot.

He wondered how long it would be before she got to that point. How long before she broke under the pressure and came back to him for another fix. When would the withdrawal start? When would her high horse trip and fall, throwing her to the ground causing her to crawl back to him? It was a weak horse. He shot it that day in his room. She needed him and he knew it. She was no better than these people here, and that made it that more exciting to him.

--

Rinoa was slightly taken aback by the reply but kept along with him. She looked around at the quaint houses and wondered if a town like this even held a bar. It was eight o'clock on Sunday and it looked as though the entire town was closed for the night. Rinoa couldn't stop thinking about how cute that idea was. She was used to cities that never slept and no one trusted anyone, ever. The kind of town where impoliteness was the norm and no one was safe after dark. She held the sneaking suspicion that if she went up to any door in this sleepy town the door would be unlocked.

The farther they got from the residential area and closer to the water, the darker it got. The blaring music could be heard more and more clearly the closer the duo got to run down looking wooden building. Even small towns had a wrong side of the tracks.

The loud twang of a guitar blared from the jukebox in the corner of the dark one room bar. It was full of men, except for one bar maid and now Rinoa. The whine of a grown man singing about his lost love was the only sound left when Squall and Rinoa entered the room. The entire room looked oddly at the strange couple, watching their every move as they shuffled to the corner booth.

Squall seemed to ignore the glares and hostile gazes. Rinoa, on the other hand, wanted to curl up and cry. Maybe they recognized her. Maybe they knew they weren't supposed to be in there, but rather in the rehab center just up the road. Rinoa quickly slid into the dirty booth beside Squall; she was safe next to him.

"Wha' cin I git ya both?" the barmaid asked.

Rinoa was afraid to order in a place like this. After all the bars in Deling and all over the civilized world, this was gross. She felt like she needed a shot of some kind after just sitting down or at least a shower. But then again alcohol, it killed germs didn't it? She looked around feeling dirty.

"Wha'd ya whant?" the woman asked looking at Rinoa, Squall obviously had already said what he wanted.

"Martini," she replied timidly. The woman nodded and walked away looking at Rinoa oddly. Squall too wondered what the hell her problem was.

"Scurvy," she replied unintentionally loud. Squall chuckled.

"It may look dingy, but the alcohol is untainted," he reassured her. "I've been coming here for years," he added. The barmaid set a glass in front of Rinoa and a bottle of Jack Daniels before Squall.

"Thank you," Squall said unscrewing the top. Rinoa looked over her glass for any imperfections. When she found none, she looked over at Squall who chugged at his bottle.

"You don't intend on drinking that all by yourself do you?" she asked, picking the green olive out of her glass and pulling it daintily off the toothpick with her teeth. He set the bottle down on the table harshly.

"You are Goddamn right I do," he replied.

The alcohol felt heavenly on her lips. After the hell of detox and the rest of that Goddamn rehab center, it was a nice reward. Though, a part of her couldn't help but feel a little guilty about it… not that she would ever voice that to Squall. She barely knew him, but she needed him if she was going to make it through this clinical prison.

time had passed. her one glass turned to four. his bottle three quarters gone. he was just starting to feel the effects. she more so than him. he now wore a happy grin. they did not speak now. nothing more needed to be said. only her slurred demands for more when her glass would empty.

he reached the end of the bottle. seven glasses before her.

i nee'nother bottle o' jack, he called not bothering to get the barmaids attention before he ordered. didcha whant 'nother 'artini? he asked rinoa.

no, she shook her head the barmaid slapped another bottle of Jack on the table and cleared the empty one before squall. he took a long swig she grabbed the bottle from him and copied his actions.

'atta girl, he said as she slammed it down on the table.

the new bottle now half empty mostly because of her as she chugged it greedily closing time the old man behind the bar barked chasing rinoa and squall out into the street having to leave the bottle there did they pay who paid where do they go now cant go back to the rehab too drunk to get in good rinoa latched onto squall and they stumbled to the only other lit building nearby

he was surprised that the hotel was even still open at this time of night what time was it how long did it take them to get this drunk where were they was this even a hotel the questions buzzed around his inebriated head he vaguely recalled handing the woman a credit card and id

rinoa was wrapped around him in the elevator when did they start kissing who started this where the fuck was this goddamn room she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him grinding him into hardness oh god where was that room hed fuck her right here if there wasnt that chance of getting arrested and kicked out

the bed was soft so was she oh god squall she moaned his hand beneath her shirt oh god oh god clothes were removed in desperation she tasted like her drink his head felt happily fuzzy was it the amount of drink or her

oh god squall she moaned more his pants were becoming increasingly tighter as they ground into each other he said nothing he only groaned out his approval as she reached down to his belt and pants god she undid them so fast she much have been a pro thank god

she flipped him over tugging down his pants no underwear she slipped off the remainder of her clothes as well bones bones everywhere she crept down his body with her mouth the room spun oh shit her mouth covered his manhood oh shit she was amazing he couldnt take it for very long he was already ready to explode he yanked her back up and tossed her feather light body to the bed fuck the foreplay useless

his mouth never opened but she nodded as he drove into her hard making her scream dear god he hoped this was the right room how did they get here he pumped into her hard and fast just like she asked he could fell the blood run down his back as her nailed dug into his back

the bed squeaked he hated that but it was a sign he was doing a good job no her screams where the sign of a job well done everyone knew that oh my god yes right there squall oh god fuck fuck yeah ohhh god he could feel her come to her end but he wasnt done with her she screamed loud with climax he was almost there almost violently he drove into her she was surprisingly tighter than he thought maybe all those movie stars she fucked where tiny fucking pricks he could feel himself tighten he drove into her one last time before emptying his seed into her rinoa


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: This is probably getting old from me and probably losing all validity but this has seriously been the longest it has taken me to update and for that I am sorry. I probably lost most of my readers in the month it has taken me to update this bitch. Allow me to offer, however, a long explanation on the subject. I feel I owe it to you all. First off, I got a few pages done then got stuck and it took Jesse Static and I a while to sort it out.

Then something weird happened, I got inspiration to write another story non-fan fiction related. (It's on my FictionPress account if you are interested. I have been told it's awesome. It's called The Letter). Anyway, so all my effort, for a long while, went into that. Couple that with a writer's block for this story and that makes a long wait. Also, I had to move back to school and subsequently go back to school! You understand. Living alone for the first time and starting a new, real college is a pain! But anyway, I am super sorry about making you wait this long. And I am sad to say I cannot guarantee a quick update for the next chapter, but please bear with me.

Oh right, there was a bit of confusion regarding the end of Chapter 5. Where it gets harder to read and the grammar and punctuation get more and more sloppy, that was intentional. As the duo gets drunker the writing got worse, notice. And essentially at the end you are in Squall's drunken mind as he is having sex with Rinoa, get it? I tired to make that clear, perhaps I overestimated a little. Sorry. I hope that clears it up for you though. If you still don't get it, feel free to drop an email or something saying, "Carie, I still don't get. What the hell is the matter with you?" Or some variation of that.

Thanks guys!

P.S. Dear IronicEnding, the crap about bunnies is for you. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6

She had woken up first, the sunlight taunting her through the cracks in the shades. She could feel her head spin as soon as her eyes opened. What the hell went on last night? Where the hell were they? Who the hell was "they?" Her stomach churned painfully as she thought. All she remembered were his eyes, his cold piercing eyes, demanding she go with him; Squall.

She curled up closer into his body, resting her head delicately on his shoulder. She watched him carefully as he slept his eyes moving rapidly as he dreamt. She wondered about his dreams. Did he have nightmares of his past misdeeds like she did? Or did he dream of happy bunnies in a colorful meadow? Or was that the nightmare? He whimpered slightly and stirred.

Quickly, she rubbed his arm soothingly, coaxing away the terror. When she reached the inner part of his elbow, she stopped. Here his smooth skin was tainted. The rough, bumpy texture made her stomach queasy. Slowly, she peeled back the sheet that tangled around them. Her stomach lurched at the sight of his arm, bruised, deformed, mangled. Her hand continued over the spot as she inspected it carefully.

She had seen heroin users' arms before but nothing like this. This was the sight of years of abuse, and even some resent use. She was used to month old scars. The kind easily hidden and ignored. The only way to conceal the black lines that coursed his inner arms was long sleeves. This was why, she suspected, he always wore a black thermal shirt beneath his white tee-shirt despite the heat in that place.

--

Pulsating pain shot through his frontal lobe. He cracked his eyes open, allowing the light to traveled through his body, seared his brain and used his stomach as a trampoline. Hangover. Wait, hangover? What the hell? Squall Leonhart did not get hangovers. Squall Leonhart, who began drinking at the age of ten, was beyond having hangovers. What the hell? Why now? His whole body ached except where she was stroking the inside of his left arm.

Wait, who is she stroking his left arm?

Looking down he saw her. He was now suddenly very awake and very aware of her naked body pressed against his.

"Oh shit," he thought as flashes of what he could remember from the previous night played in his head. He suppressed a groan as he looked down at her again. Yes, it was definitely the one and only, Rinoa Heartilly, socialite and daughter of the fucking general of the fucking Galbadian army. He could feel the chucks rising in his throat.

This was not good, not good at all. He could just see the headlines, "Match made in Rehab." Or some other shitty title some "creative" news editor could come up with to sell his shitty paper of made up crap. The pounding in his head increased with thought and stress. This would definitely come back and bit him in the ass, he knew it.

--

She didn't know why her insides twisted and knotted every time she saw him. More over, she wasn't sure why she suddenly felt light headed and ready to pass out whenever he was near. What the hell was he doing to her? She didn't know what was going on inside her, why he had this effect on her, why she cared so much, or even if she wanted the feelings to stop.

She felt like she needed him more and more each day. As sappy and cliché as it was, it was becoming more and more difficult to stop herself from going over to him. Stopping him in the hall, forget who he was with and allow him to have his way with her. To hell with everything else. She needed him, craved him. He was everywhere she was, even if he was nowhere to be seen. She had hoped if she volunteered for night shifts, while he worked day, she wouldn't see him, ever and, in time, this obsession, this stalking obsession would die.

But the hunger grew worse. The pain of her unsatisfied body cried louder. She had spent the day, time she could have been using to sleep, trying to calm those cries. She didn't know how but, she eventually ended up outside, watching him.

This had exhausted her, forcing her to consume more cups of coffee than she could count. But even still, with the caffeine buzzing through her veins, causing her limbs to shake, she would doze off, dreaming of him. Dreaming of his body, his image, his touch, his fuck, him. He haunted her every move, every thought.

--

The journey back was long and arduous. Not because it was a difficult path, but rather because of the sun. It assaulted the two alcohol craving bodies relentlessly with its bright, hot rays. A heavy cloak of awkwardness hung between them. No words had been spoken to each other since the night before. They silently rose from bed and showered separately while the other searched for various articles of clothes strewn about.

Both people cursed the day's existence and their own selves for being ill equipped for the sun's attack on their central nervous system. However, they had to make this journey, the more they prolonged it, the deeper in shit they potentially sank.

The knots in her stomach tightened and the bile reached her throat as their destination came into view. She couldn't help but feel as good as dead with each step. Suddenly, she stopped and crouched over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pavement. Upon seeing this, her companion did the same. Her knees buckled and she let out a failed suppressed sob. She felt herself begin to drop to her knees, but was stopped by his vice like drip on her upper arms, mid-fall.

"We don't have time for this," he said, pulling her back up. He began to walk away, but halted when he noticed she was not following suit.

"Let's go," he growled causing her to snap back to reality and run as fast as she could to catch up with him.

--

It was now seven in the morning with one hour of her shift left to go she was wired and shaking. That's when she noticed them walk in. Wait, she didn't remember them leaving.

"Where have you been?" she asked in a demanding voice, standing up. She noted the scared look on Squall's face. He didn't look so good. There was definitely something-

"We went out for an early morning walk around the courtyard. Don't you remember, we said, 'hi,' on our way out?" The lies feel easily off of Rinoa's lips.

"No, I don't," she replied crossly.

"See Squall, I told you she was totally out of it not ignoring you?" His eyebrow rose, she was good.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I'm going back to bed." He walked off, leaving Rinoa alone with Quistis.

--

He watched them stroll into the lobby from his place in the back corner of the room. He'd been watching Quistis for a while. But now, now his attention was transfixed on them. Hearing the lies fall from that little whore's mouth. He knew they weren't out on a morning stroll of the grounds. He'd seen them last night hopping the fence. They probably thought they had gotten away with it. They were careless and Quistis was stupid, he could smell the alcohol on them from here.

He'd been at the desk at midnight when a call came in from the Balamb Hotel saying a Squall Leonhart and a guest had just checked in, utterly wasted. Everyone saw the television reports. Everyone knew Squall Leonhart was synonymous with this rehab. Hell, Squall Leonhart was the unofficial poster boy of the place.

He'd been the one to okay their check-in. He was the one assuring the girl that it was okay; they would take care of it and wouldn't hold her accountable. He was the one who stopped himself mid-dial to Cid's personal line, knowing information like this could and would be useful sometime soon.

--

he took a handful of pills before he went in he always drank before going drinking before led to a faster fight he lived for this he would be subtle about it though always make it look like an accident but always pick a hot head to throw the first punch

blood he loved the taste of his own the feeling of broken teeth in his mouth chaos god he loved chaos the feel of someones skull under his fist screams of rage torn from his throat jab jab hook elbow upper cut kick

blood splattered on his hands and face it didnt matter whose it was no pain the pills took care of that blood on the cement a group against him eyes swollen shut sirens too tired to out run those fat fucks blood bile battered broken let me die

--

Cold sweat soaked pajama bottoms clung to him like a second skin. He hated it here. But he hated out there more. Out there he was a has been. The cause of a lot of lost money. But he had had more at stake on that fight; livelihood. He lost that and everything else that day.

Here, he was Zell. Lovable, lively, Zell. He wasn't the wash-up, the subject of public ridicule or pity, not the addict, the man that picked random fights in bars. Just Zell.

He changed into normal clothes and left the room. As he stepped out into the hallway, he ran, almost directly, into something

"Yo, sor- hey, Squall. Whoa, you look awful," Zell said, taking in Squall's scruffy, sick look. His eyes were bloodshot and reeked faintly of alcohol.

"I know," Squall barked, walking away from Zell and toward his room.

Zell found Selphie and Irvine huddled around a table in the cafeteria, Selphie talking animatedly about something. Zell took a seat beside Irvine and muttered a greeting.

"Hey, Zell, have you seen Squall or Rinoa lately?" Selphie asked. Zell looked up from his spot at the table and nodded.

"Yeah, I just saw Squall on his way to his room; he looked horrible and smelled like booze."

Both Selphie and Irvine let out a disappointed sigh.

"Why does he do this?" Selphie asked herself aloud. Zell's eyebrows knit in confusion.

"What?" he asked looking between his two companions.

"Do you think he brought Rinoa with him?" Irvine asked.

"Where?" Zell asked.

"I do-" Selphie began when she was cut off by a presence looming over the table.

"Hey, have you guys seen Squall?" Rinoa asked, placing her hands on the table, looking slightly disheveled and nervous.

"Zell said he saw him on his way to his room." Selphie said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. "Why?"

"No reason, thanks, bye," Rinoa said in a hurry and ran off toward the rooms.

"Well, I guess that answers your question," Zell said to Selphie, taking a long sniff of the air Rinoa formerly occupied. "Now would you mind answering me?"

Selphie let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, before looking around the room for anyone who may be listening. She glanced at the nurses who were too close for her to comfortably reveal anything. She leaned close to the table and motioned Zell to do the same. Irvine, who knew the goings on, sat up and continued to pick as his breakfast.

"I can't say much now, but let's just say Squall wasn't here last night and Rinoa went with him."

Zell rolled his eyes. He may have been blond but that much he knew already. She may have just as well told him the sky was blue or the grass was green or Seifer is the world's biggest asshole. He knew the specifics, he wanted the details. If it was one thing Zell hated most, it was being kept out of the loop. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his expertly gelled hair and fell back into his chair, angry at the lack of information his friends were giving him.

He glanced around him from Irvine, to Selphie to the nursing staff on guard, to the hallway Rinoa had gone down, back to the table. Something was up, there was no doubt about that and it was big and things were going to get messy when the proverbial shit hit the inevitable fan.

--

Rinoa rapped quickly on the wooden door that cut Squall's room off from the rest of the building. There were so many thoughts running through her mind at that moment. Not about the escape, well what happened during said escape. They didn't have much time to talk about what transpired the night before, that morning. He, more likely than not, wanted to ignore this whole thing and continue on as if nothing had happened. She, one the other hand was a girl and needed to talk about it, damnit. She knocked again, louder this time.

The door swung violently open, revealing a pissed off and half naked Squall. She took a step back, holding the hand she had knocked with, in fright. His eyes softened, only slightly, upon seeing her.

"We need to talk," she told him in a hushed tone. She couldn't help but feel a bit insulted when he let out an annoyed groan, but let her in anyway.

"Whatever," he muttered, closing the door behind her. He sat on the unmade bed facing the ground, his arms resting on his knees. She stood with her back to the door, watching him. "So talk," he said calmly.

"Right, um, I dunno. What, uh, happened last night, exactly?" she asked, swaying nervously.

"Uh, from what I remember we got drunk and had sex. Do you need anymore clarification?" he asked with bitter sarcasm.

"So nothing has changed between us?" she asked, sounding as if looking for clarification.

"I don't see why it should. It was just sex, Rinoa," he replied calmly as if this was an everyday occurrence for him. Then again she barely knew much about him, perhaps it was and before this whole rehab gig, it was kinda like that for her too. But, that didn't stop the stinging feeling her in stomach.

"Right. Just checking, well I am gonna let you get some sleep now," she said turning to leave.

"Rinoa, wait," he called, forcing her to stop, her hand on the knob as she turned to face him.

"You aren't going to get all girly on me about this are you?" he asked walking over to her.

"No."

"Then how come your eyes tell me differently?"

She let out a sigh and looked him directly in the eyes. "Listen, Squall, you said so yourself, we were drunk and it was just sex. I am a big girl, I have had my share of one night stands before. God, get over yourself." On that note, she turned and left.

Squall ran a hand through his unkempt hair. His hangover was getting worse and worse by the moment. She was a talented actress, but he knew her acting better than she thought. He had played those same roles for years. She was gonna go "girly" on him, that much he knew. Sex really did change everything once you sobered up. That much he should have seen coming. Then again how long had it been since he was last sober for more than a day?

"Oh God," he ran to the adjoining bathroom and threw up what was left inside of his stomach, by this point, mostly acid. He flushed the toilet and went back to his bed and flicked off the light, he would deal with this bullshit later. God, he needed a hit of something, anything.

"Sleep," he told himself. "Just sleep."

--

Rinoa managed to make it back to her room before crumpling into a heap on the floor and weeping. How could he see through her? Why was it so much easier to act in front of the whole world than it was in front of just one person?

She stood on shaky limbs and climbed into her bed, instantly curling into fetal position and let out a strangled sob. She had had so many one night stands in the past, so why the fuck was this one getting to her so much? Squall was no different from the rest of her long string of lovers. No, "fuckers" was more appropriate.

This time felt different, however. This time she felt, filthy, used and degraded. Perhaps it was his patronizing, sarcastic tone. Or maybe, just maybe, unlike all the others for the first time she was sober, well not entirely, but for the first time she gave a shit what he thought about her the next day. Perhaps this was the only type of "love" a recovering addict can ever feel for another person. Yes, perhaps in her fucked up and fried brain, this was "love."

"Oh, God," she sobbed harder.


End file.
